


Sexual Healing

by KT418, LB714



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KT418/pseuds/KT418, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB714/pseuds/LB714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter is attacked during the full moon, Roman races to find him and bring him to the mansion for a little TLC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexual Healing

**Author's Note:**

> We do not own these characters; we have simply borrowed them and will return them unharmed (and hopefully satisfied).

The night had begun as it usually did this time of the month. Under a clear sky, the moon bright and full. Peter transformed into the wolf and ran off into the woods, to run free for just a little while, with no responsibilities except just . . . being. There was still the scent of something bad in the air—the vargulf, but Peter ignored it, because for just one night he didn't want to have to think about the evil presence in this town. He didn't want to think about it because now he had Roman. As much as he had tried to fight his attraction to the wealthy, cultured, confident Roman Godfrey, there were some things you had to accept, and for whatever reason fate had thrown them together.

So when he was attacked in the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn, he was unprepared, and whatever attacked him got the better of him, so now Peter lies at the base of a tree, naked, covered in blood, and barely conscious.

Roman drives into the school parking lot and parks in his customary spot. He looks over to the wall where Peter usually sits before school starts and is startled to see Lynda there instead. He strolls over, towering over Peter's mother and looks at her inquisitively.

Without preamble, Lynda quietly says, "He didn't come home. He's never . . . he always comes home."

Lynda isn't one of those moms who stresses. So the fact that she's here is enough to give Roman pause. "What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know the woods. I don't know where to look." Lynda looks up into the tall boy's eyes. "Find him. Find him for me."

Roman nods, then surprises himself by giving Lynda a quick hug. "We'll be back before you know it."

Peter drifts in and out of consciousness, images floating through his mind like leaves on the wind, crackling and falling and then disappearing. He manages to open his eyes but shuts them quickly as the sunlight streaming through the trees blinds him. What time is it, he wonders. How long have I been here? He tries to sit up and is immediately assaulted with a wave of pain. His arm is bleeding and his head hurts. He manages to get to his knees. Roman, he thinks. If Roman were here . . .

If there's one thing Roman hates, it's getting his shoes dirty. And the paths in the woods are very muddy today. "You owe me, Gypsy boy," he mutters before going deeper in to the woods and calling Peter's name again.

Fuck, thinks Peter, as he tries to crawl through the underbrush. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Every movement sends more pain shooting through his body. He has no idea how far he is from the trailer, and at this rate he'll be out here all day.

After what seems like an hour but was probably much less, Peter hears his name. It's Roman, and he's somewhere close by. "Roman," he croaks. "Over here." He crawls a few more feet, then collapses once again.

Roman's sure he's heard something, but he's not sure where. He calls Peter's name again, and then strains to hear him.

Breathing hard, Peter grabs at anything he can. "Shit," he moans. Then in thought, You're a fucking upir, Roman. See me. I'm right here.

This time Roman's sure what he heard, and from where. He runs toward the sound, calling Peter's name once more.

Peter makes one more attempt to hoist himself up. Roman is here, and if he can just get to him, everything will be okay.

Roman runs up just in time to catch Peter before he collapses again. "I've got you."

Roman easily supports Peter's weight, causing a small smile to play on Peter's lips. "You're late," he says, his voice raspy.

"Traffic was a bitch."

This makes Peter chuckle, which turns into a cough. He staggers as Roman supports him. "Where's your car?"

"Up by the road. That way." Roman indicates the direction with a nod and slips his jacket around Peter’s shoulders. "What happened to you? Lynda is freaked."

Peter winces with every step. "I don't know. Something attacked me." Then, realizing what Roman just said, "You spoke to my mom?"

"She came to school. Asked me to look for you."

"How'd you find me?" He can see the car through the trees now.

"I don't know. I just walked around calling you until I heard you." Roman tightens his arm around Peter to help him up the slight incline to the car.

Peter's eyes are on the ground, his feet practically dragging the last few feet to the car. "Nice shoes," he jokes.

"I would not sacrifice my Ferragamos for just anyone."

"I'll buy you a new pair." Peter forces another smile, and then they're at the car, and as Roman holds open the passenger door, Peter collapses into the seat.

"Try not to bleed on my seats too much."

Peter manages to hold up his middle finger before the strength fully seeps out of him and he closes his eyes. The turn normally takes a lot out of him, but this time it's as though someone dropped a hundred-pound weight on his chest.

Roman rummages in the trunk until he finds an ancient blanket, which he drapes over Peter.  “We should call your mom."

"Mmm," Peter mumbles, gather the blanket tighter as his head lolls against the window.

Roman gently takes Peter's chin and turns his face back where he can see it. "Hey. I was going to take you to my place to get you cleaned up and lend you some clothes. Should I take you home instead? Or to a doctor?"

Peter waves a loose hand at Roman. "No doctors. Just need to sleep it off . . ."

"Okay, just stay with me long enough to talk to your mom."

But the comfort of the car seat and the hum of the engine lull him to sleep.

Sighing, Roman calls Lynda and reassures her. By the time they finish their conversation, he's pulling up to the house. He looks down at his sleeping friend and doesn't want to wake him. He could probably carry him, but Peter would kill him. So he gently shakes Peter's uninjured arm.

Peter winces but opens his eyes, and when he sees they have pulled up in front of Roman's mansion, he starts. "What about your mom?"

"She took Shelley to see Dr. Pryce. They'll be there for hours."

Peter's body relaxes, and he manages to get the car door open. "You talk to Lynda?" he asks, as he heaves himself up and out. The pavement is cool under his feet, and he looks forward to stretching out on a comfortable bed for a few hours. He gathers the blanket tightly around him.

"Yeah, she's all relieved."

Nodding, Peter hobbles around the car toward the front door of the Godfrey mansion.

Roman's long legs cover the ground quickly, and he puts his arm around Peter. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Peter says, but inside he's glad Roman is here. "I just need to sleep it off." He looks up at the mansion, both self-conscious and in awe as usual about Roman's life. Even Peter knows he doesn't belong here.

"Yeah, but we gotta get you cleaned up and patched up first," Roman says, letting them into the house.

Peter tries not to think about what he's tracking into this house as they make their way across the foyer and toward the grand staircase. "Hey," Peter says. "Thanks for doing this."

"Don't be stupid."

Peter allows Roman to support his weight as they make their way up the staircase, which for Peter seems endless. When they reach the landing, Peter sighs. The house is enormous, and he wonders briefly how many rooms it contains.

"In here." Roman steers Peter into a huge bathroom and into a chair. He rummages in a large closet. "My nanny used to keep first aid stuff in here."

"You had a nanny?" Peter asks, grinning, as he sinks into the chair. He's never been in a bathroom this large before.

"You seriously think my mother ever changed diapers or anything?" Roman says as he sets out the first aid supplies. "Let me see that . . . is that a bite?"

For the first time since he woke, Peter looks at his arm. Bloody dots form a half-circle pattern on his forearm. "I think so. Shit." He still can't remember exactly what happened, but he has a feeling he had gotten into a fight.

"We have to clean it. And it's going to hurt."

Peter turns his blue eyes up to Roman's face. "Do what you have to do." He's used to pain, but somehow, with Roman taking care of him, he has a feeling it won't hurt nearly as much as it should.

Roman looks at Peter. "Ready?"

Peter looks from Roman to his arm and back again. "You sure you know what you’re doing?"

"I offered to take you home, or to a doctor. You chose me, now you're stuck with me."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," jokes Peter, in an attempt to distract himself from what Roman is about to do.

Before either of them can think about it, Roman grabs Peter's arm and pours the hydrogen peroxide over the injured area.

Every Romanian expletive that Peter ever learned comes flying out of his mouth, and it's all he can do to stay in the chair.

Roman holds onto Peter's arm while he rides out the pain. "That's as bad as its going to get."

"That's pretty fucking bad, Roman," Peter says, wincing, as the worst of the sting subsides.

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

Peter's demeanor changes at the suggestion, and his voice softens. "You can start with the arm."

Roman leans in and kisses Peter's lips. "I'll start wherever I want." He leans back and looks at Peter's arm again. "You sure you don't want to see a doctor? You probably need a tetanus shot. Or a rabies shot. Or a tetanus shot _and_ a rabies shot. "

Peter scowls and rolls his eyes. "Maybe you should take me to the vet." Then he reaches for a towel by the sink and wraps it around his arm.

"Hey, I'm serious. You want to get sick? Or is there some magical werewolf voodoo that protects you?"

Waving the comment away, Peter lies. "I've been through worse." He's had some rough nights, sure, but nothing like last night.

"Tough guy," Roman says affectionately. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Peter's whole body ached, but he wasn't about to admit that. "Just here, baby," he jokes, putting his hand on his heart.

"That I can heal," Roman says sweetly.

"I bet you can." But Peter's eyelids are heavy, and as much as he'd like to see just how Roman plans to heal him, right now all he can think about is sleep.

"Let's get you cleaned up, then you can sleep."

With a sigh, Peter nods. He's making a fuss, but in truth he likes being taken care of by Roman.

"You want a shower or a bath?"

"What do you want?" Peter reaches out and runs his fingers up Roman's arm.

"I'm trying to keep my baser instincts at bay. And you're not making it easy."

"Who knew you were such a gentleman, Roman Godfrey."

"I have my moments."

Peter appraises Roman. "You certainly do." But then he yawns, breaking the moment.

The yawn makes Roman want to wrap Peter in his arms and never let go. But he knows that Peter needs to be clean and warm as soon as possible. "A bath. I think you should have a bath."

Peter can't remember the last time he had a real bath. He was lucky to squeeze into the tiny shower in the trailer, or grab a swim in the nearby pond. "Will you wash my back?" teases Peter, with a smile.

"I'll wash anything you want." Roman says, going over to the tub and turning on the faucet.

Peter closes his eyes while the water runs. "Be careful what you say, Godfrey. I just might take you up on it."

Roman finishes filling the tub, then goes back to where Peter appears to be dozing. "Ready?"

"Hmm?" Peter opens his eyes reluctantly, but then the sweet aroma of whatever Roman put into the bath water reaches his senses and lures him to the tub. He heaves himself up from the chair and staggers to the tub, and when he places a foot in the water it immediately soothes him.

Roman watches as Peter eases himself into the tub, then drags his eyes away. "I'm gonna go find some clothes for you, okay?"

"Mmm," Peter manages, then sinks low into the water, letting the warmth envelope him. The scent reminds him of Roman—clean, musky—and he tries not to think about how dirty he is, how much he doesn't belong here in this bathtub, in this house, in Roman's life.

Digging through a drawer, Roman finds some sweats. They'll be too long on Peter, but they'll do. They're also soft and expensive, and Roman knows they'll feel good on Peter's skin. He brings the pile of soft fabric back to the bathroom and drops it on the chair Peter had been sitting on. Then he goes and perches on the edge of the tub. "Still need your back washed?"

Peter's eyes fly open and he sits up, suddenly aware of his surroundings again. "It's a start," he says, growing calm again and batting his eyes. He draws his knees up and wraps his arms around them, giving Roman access.

Roman looks down at the scrapes and developing bruises decorating Peter's back. "Are you sure? You're pretty banged up. I don't want to hurt you more."

Peter looks up at Roman and raises his eyebrows. "I turn into a wolf every time the moon is full. Trust me, this is nothing."

"If you say so," Roman says dubiously, picking up a sea sponge and dipping it in the water and running it lightly over Peter's back.

At first, Peter flinches, but the sponge is so soft and Roman's touch so gentle that it quickly begins to soothe him." You've done this before," says Peter. It's not a question, but a statement.

"Bathed a werewolf?"

This makes Peter chuckle in spite of the situation. "Fuck you."

"Back at you, baby." Roman dips the sponge again and continues making soothing circles on Peter's back. "For the record, I have not invited anyone else into my bathroom, and I have not bathed anyone. Godfreys get taken care of. We don't do the caretaking."

"Well, you're doing a damned fine job of it for someone who had a nanny wash his dick his whole life."

"Hey, Nanny doesn't wash my dick anymore."

"Aha! So you still have a nanny." Peter smiles smugly and hugs his knees tightly.

"She retired." Roman wets the sponge again and squeezes it over Peter's head.

Peter gasps and shakes his head, spraying water everywhere. He looks at Roman and flashes him another grin. "Oops."

"Watch out. Nanny might come out of retirement if we make a mess. No one wants that."

Another grin, then mock seriousness. "Why, did she spank you when you were bad?"

"I was too scared to be bad."

"She must have been pretty scary, then, to frighten _you._" Peter settles back in the water, content to listen to Roman talk.

"Just very strict," Roman says, running the sponge over Peter's slim but muscular chest.

"You turned out okay, though." Peter likes the feel of the sponge on his chest, or rather, Roman's hand moving the sponge.

"You think so?"

"Look at the way you take care of your sister."

Roman's voice softens. "That was the first thing I liked about you—the way you treated Shelley."

"I like Shelley. She's smart. Like you." He lifts a hand from the water and runs a finger up Roman's arm.

"Not everyone can see that."

"I see it." Peter reaches up and touches Roman's cheek.

Roman smiles down into Peter's face, and then realizes how tired Peter still looks; how much this night has drained him. "You ready to get out now?"

Peter notes the color of the water, which has gone from clear to a muddy gray. He nods and yawns again. As much as he'd like to sit here all day and talk to Roman, his body has other plans, and sleep is the top priority.

Seeing the direction of Peter's gaze, Roman suggests that he might want to use the shower to rinse off, then dives into the closet for fresh towels.

Peter does as instructed, relishing the warm water running down his body. He feels clean for the first time in weeks, and he notes with pleasure that he now smells like Roman.

Roman is waiting with a huge, soft towel as Peter steps out of the tub, wrapping it and himself around his friend.

Peter has never felt a towel so soft before and never had such comforting arms wrapped around him by someone he was not related to. He can't help but nuzzle Roman's neck as his friend takes him in his arms.

"Sleep first, then . . . whatever we want." Roman steps back. "I brought some clothes for you."

Peter takes the sweats and puts them on. They're soft and warm and so comfortable Peter wishes he never had to take them off. "Thanks," he says quietly. Roman has done more for him in a few hours than any other "friend" he ever had. "For everything."

"You don't have to thank me."

Without saying another word, Peter nods. He knows nothing he could say or do would match the kindness that Roman showed him today. "I owe you one."

"I'll collect. After you get some rest."

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Peter asks, as Roman steers him into his bedroom.

"Both." Roman leads Peter to the bed. "Lie down."

Peter keeps his eyes on Roman as he climbs onto the large, comfortable bed. If he closed his eyes right now, he'd be asleep in seconds.

"Do you need anything?"

That generosity again. "I'm starving, but right now I just want to sleep." He pats a space on the mattress next to him. "And you."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Peter scoots over to give the taller boy more room.

Roman wraps an arm around Peter. "Sleep now. I'll feed you later."

Without thinking about it, Peter snuggles into Roman's body and closes his eyes. Within minutes he's sound asleep. For someone who has been alone most of his life, it seems almost natural to be with Roman.

Roman gathers Peter more tightly, and in a few minute, he's drifting off himself.

*****

The afternoon sun is slanting into the room when Roman awakens. He looks down at the sleeping boy in his arms and brushes the hair back from his face, noting scrapes and even a bruise on one cheekbone.

Peter sighs and slowly opens his eyes. At first he's confused about his surroundings, but then Roman's scent hits him, and he relaxes in his boyfriend's arms. "What time is it?" he asks quietly.

"Three. Darn—we missed school."

"Guess we'll get detention for this. Might as well make the best of it." He begins to stroke Roman's arm lightly with his fingertips.

"So, you're feeling better?"

Peter nods. "Yeah. Much better." He yawns and stretches, animal-like, then starts to run his fingers down Roman's chest.

"How much better?"

"Remember when I said I was starving? Well, food isn't the only thing I'm hungry for right now." His hand trails lower and lightly tickles Roman's smooth stomach.

"I think we can satisfy _all_ your appetites."

"Well, in that case, there's one thing I want right now." Peter’s hand has reached the heat between Roman's legs, and as he encircles the thick cock, he closes the gap between their bodies and captures Roman's full lips in a deep kiss.

Roman leans into the kiss and eases Peter back. He slides his hands under Peter's sweatshirt and starts lifting it.

Peter's lips part and his tongue slips into Roman's hot, wet mouth, exploring, tasting. With a firm hand, he begins pumping Roman's cock, while his own arousal becomes evident.

Reluctantly, Roman breaks the kiss. "Let me get these off you," he whispers urgently.

Completely aroused now, Peter doesn't want to take his hand off Roman's heat, but if they're going to go any further, he supposes the clothes must come off.

Roman strips off the sweatshirt, then slides down the bed to deal with the pants. On his way back up, he gets distracted by Peter's erection and licks the length of it while keeping his eyes on Peter's.

Peter watches intently and moans quietly when Roman's tongue touches his cock. His head falls back against the pillow, and his hand plays with Roman's silky hair.

Peter's reaction encourages Roman, and he swipes his tongue along the length of Peter's heat again, then circles the tip with his tongue.

"Roman," Peter whispers, cradling his boyfriend's head and begging him to continue.

Gripping Peter's slender hips, Roman takes Peter into his mouth.

"Fuck!" Peter exclaims, as Roman's mouth engulfs him. He tugs lightly on Roman's hair, trying not to hurt him, but the pleasure coursing through his body causes him to react.

Roman works his way up and down Peter's long shaft, listening to the sounds Peter makes and changing his movements accordingly.

Peter grabs a handful of bedding and begins to pant. He knows if Roman keeps this up it's only a matter of time before he comes. "Baby," he says, breathing hard, "while I'd never want to discourage you from doing what you're doing, wouldn't you rather fuck me?"

Roman grins and looks up at Peter. "You have to ask?"

"Just checking." His cock is throbbing, demanding more attention, but Peter is aware that Roman's needs haven't been met yet, and he's anxious to show his gratitude to the boy who rescued him this morning.

Roman kisses his way up Peter's toned torso until he's smiling down into his boyfriend's face. "Hi," he says.

"Hi," Peter says quietly, touching Roman's cheek, his chin, his full, pink lips. The mood has suddenly grown serious, and Peter can feel the intensity in every capillary in his body. It's the same sensation he gets right before the turn.

"Stay right here," Roman instructs, then gets up and crosses the room to his dresser. He comes back with a condom and a bottle of lube. "I, um, went shopping. This is supposed to make it even better."

Peter puts a hand on his chest and says seriously, "Roman, I'm touched." Then he breaks into a grin and takes the condom from Roman's hand. "Looks like _someone_ paid attention in sex ed class."

"Fuck that. I Googled it."

With a smirk, Peter cocks his head and looks quizzically at Roman. Having never owned a computer, he knows little about social networking, let alone search engines. "Let's see what you know."

Roman can't help kissing that smirking mouth, at the same time opening the lube and putting some on his fingers. He slides his hand down over Peter's cock, and lower, teasing at Peter's opening with his slippery fingers.

Peter returns the kiss hungrily, parting his legs wide to give Roman better access.

Roman pushes his fingers into Peter, easing the tightness and preparing the way for his own penetration.

This causes Peter to whimper quietly. Without breaking the kiss, he slides his hands down Roman's chest.

Roman feels around on the mattress until he locates the condom, which he opens and rolls on. He slicks on some more lube, then rolls on top of Peter.

Peter raises his knees and pulls Roman down into another passionate kiss. He pauses to look deep into Roman's eyes. He feels the connection between them as though it's a visible, tangible thing.

Roman presses slowly into Peter, surrounding himself in heat and tightness. He wraps his arms around Peter and gathers him even closer.

Suppressing a groan of pleasure, Peter opens himself up to Roman, taking him in deeper. "Harder," he whispers in Roman's ear.

Peter always seemed very private and almost defensive, so the fact that he's so open and trusting with Roman is incredibly arousing to Roman.

Peter tilts his hips up, encouraging Roman to go deeper. "Don't worry, I won't break."

Roman thrusts harder, and Peter's strength meets him with every stroke. But this time, Roman realizes, there's something different. Heat and electricity seem to emanate from every spot their skin touches.

Peter's eyes grow wide as he feels it, too. "What the fuck?" he says quietly, not breaking the rhythm, but staring at his hand.

"I don't know. But it's fucking awesome."

Peter wonders how this is happening. Roman doesn't even seem to be aware he's doing it, but as Roman continues to thrust, the charge intensifies. Peter has never felt anything like it. Not only is he consumed with desire, he feels himself growing stronger, and any residual aches and pains from the night before are slowly fading. "You're fucking awesome," he says.

The closer they get to orgasm, the more tangible the current running between and around them seems. Roman could swear he can see it, like an aura around them.

As Roman quickens his pace, Peter begins panting in time, both fascinated and fearful of what will happen when they both finally come. "Roman," he moans, as he feels himself nearing that moment.

Roman feels himself going over the edge and reaches out with whatever this power is to take Peter with him.

Peter's eyes grow wide again as both the orgasm and whatever power Roman possesses consume him. He gasps as the glow surrounds them, and he's filled with a sensation he's never experienced before.

Roman collapses onto the bed and looks over at Peter. "Brings new meaning to afterglow, right?"

Peter rubs his face and stares at the ceiling, then returns Roman's stare. "What the _fuck_ was that?"

"You're asking me?"

Peter realizes then that Roman really has no idea what he is or what he's capable of. "Maybe it's just this place, this town."

"I think . . . I think it's _us_. Together." Roman reaches for Peter's hand and lifts his arm, exposing where the bite—the bite that had been serious enough that he'd wanted to take Peter to a doctor—had been. "Look at your arm, man. It's almost completely healed."

Indeed, Roman is right. Peter looks with amazement at his nearly healed arm. What was once an angry welt is now just a light red bruise, and he barely feels it. "Shit, Roman. You know what this means, don't you?"

"That we're fucking awesome?"

"That if we want to stay healthy we're going to have to fuck a _lot_."

Roman laughs. "That can be arranged."

Just then Peter's stomach growls, reminding him that he had an appetite for more than just sex. "Can you arrange something to eat?" Peter asks, smiling sweetly.

"Right now, I feel like I could conjure a five-course meal out of thin air."

"And I would eat it." Peter starts to get up, hunting around for the clothes Roman had lent him, when he freezes. "Shit, your mom must be home by now." He scrambles frantically, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before he's discovered.

"Chill, dude."

"She'll kill me if she finds out I slept here."

"She won't. We're fine." Roman hands the sweatshirt to Peter. "Ready?"

Peter notices for the first time that the shirt bears a Hemlock Grove High School emblem, and he wonders what sports team Roman participated in. It just didn't seem to be Roman's thing, but then again, there was a lot Peter still didn't know about the boy to whom he is so strongly attracted. "Roman . . . " Peter says, reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the bedroom and face the wrath of Olivia Godfrey.

Roman looks back over his shoulder. "What?"

Peter just cocks his head and looks pointedly at Roman, then gestures with his head at the door.

Roman rolls his eyes, and opens the door, ostentatiously looking both ways, then signaling to Peter that the coast is clear.

Peter leans over Roman's shoulder, still skeptical that he's going to get through the afternoon undiscovered. But his hunger is becoming overwhelming, and at this point he'd risk getting caught for whatever is in Roman's refrigerator.

They run down the stairs together, and Roman glances out the front windows to see that his mother's customary parking spot is still empty. "She's not even here, man."

Peter's sigh of relief is so audible it surprises even him. "Shee-it," he says with a chuckle. With more confidence, he heads toward the kitchen, now unable to control his hunger.

Roman takes Peter's hand and they run to the refrigerator, where Roman starts opening drawers and offering various foods.

At the sight of the food, Peter practically drools, and he takes everything Roman offers him. He doesn't bother making a sandwich with the meat Roman hands him; he simply begins devouring it as though he hasn't eaten in a week. He doesn't care how he looks—it's all primal instinct for him. He barely chews before swallowing, and each morsel has never tasted so delicious.

Roman leans on the counter and smiles as his friend eats as guilelessly as a child. "Werewolf table manners?" he inquires with polite interest.

Peter licks his fingers, then holds up his middle finger and continues chewing. When he's sated enough to speak, he replies sarcastically, "Sorry, I can never remember which fork you use for lunch meat."

"The salami fork, of course." Roman grabs Peters waist and pulls him closer. "You've got a little . . . something, here," he says, laughing and kissing the corner of Peter's mouth. As he pulls back, out of the corner of his eye, Roman thinks he sees a flash of blue, but when he actually looks, it's gone.

Shelley flattens herself against the wall and holds her breath. Then she peeks around the door frame again. She smiles, blushing blue again with pleasure, glad to see her beloved brother and that nice Peter so happy.

"Hey," Peter says, turning Roman's face back to him. "I'm right here." And he returns Roman's kiss as hungrily as he devoured the food Roman gave him. Whatever Roman has to offer, Peter would gladly accept.


End file.
